The Potter Twins: The Philosopher's Stone
by some-butnotall
Summary: Harry Potter re-imagined, wherein Harry has a twin sister named Charlotte.
1. The Story Begins

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other books/films etc. referenced in this text. This is my first fic attempt, please bear with me :)**

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys had a son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They shuddered to think what would happen if their neighbours found out the truth about the twins in their care.

Eleven years before the day our story starts, the Dursleys were confronted by a number of strange sights. Cats acting in ways the Dursleys were sure was not normal cat behaviour, owls behaving equally as abnormally, unusual weather patterns, shooting stars all over Britain and people dressed strangely, wearing cloaks and unusual hats - the Dursleys couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes. The greatest shock of all, however, was overhearing these strangely dressed folk whispering excitedly about the Potters. They could not believe it when they heard the name. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.

The Durselys knew this funny business would have to have had something to do with _her_ lot. Mrs Dursley wished not to speak of the matter; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. Mr Dursley, however, was concerned. If these things did have something to do with the Potters… if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.

His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on… he yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect them…

How very wrong he was.

That night, as Mr and Mrs Dursley slept, three most peculiar looking people appeared on the street. The first was a man - tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and half-moon spectacles behind which his light blue eyes sparkled brightly. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

The second was a rather severe-looking woman, called Minerva McGonagall, who was wearing square glasses. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

They spoke of the behaviour Mr Dursley had observed with much animosity during the day. Professor McGonagall seemed to find it most unimpressive indeed. It seemed that these people had been celebrating something. They consulted the demise of someone they reffered to as "You-Know-Who"; saying that this person had gone to a place called Godric's Hollow, and that he had killed James and Lily Potter. It was revealed that this You-Know-Who also tried to kill the Potter's son, but he couldn't, and that it was this boy who was responsible for his defeat.

The third person to appear on the street that night was a huge man, who flew to the house on a giant motorbike. Dumbledore told McGonagall this person, named Hagrid, was bringing the Potter's now-orphaned twins to come live with their Aunt and Uncle, the only family they had left. McGonagall expressed her concerns that Dumbledore would trust Hagrid with something so important, but Dumbledore simply responded that he would trust Hagrid with his life. Hagrid was almost twice as tall as a man and at least five times as wide. He simply looked too big to be allowed, and so _wild_ \- long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, her large, hazel, doe-like eyes staring up at them curiously. Next to her, fast asleep, was her brother; under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

'Is that where -?' whispered Professor McGonagall.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'He'll have that scar forever.' Dumbledore took them in his arms and walked to the front door of the Dursley's house. He laid the twins down gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside the blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid sobbed, his face buried in a large spotted handkerchief, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

'Well, that's it, we have no business staying here,' said Dumbledore finally. 'We may as well go join in the celebrations.'

Hagrid said goodbye, wiped his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, and took off into the night on the motorbike. Professor McGonagall bid her farewells also. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped; he could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

'Good luck, Harry and Charlotte,' he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside the blankets without waking up. One of Charlotte's small hands closed on the letter beside her. They slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley… They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: 'To Harry and Charlotte Potter - the twins who lived!'

* * *

It had been many years since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece and nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bobble hats - but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all, however, that two other children lived in the house, too.

Yet, Harry and Charlotte Potter were still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice which made the first noise of the day.

'Up! Get up! Now!'

Harry woke with a start. Next to him, Charlotte yawned and rubbed her eyes lazily. Their aunt rapped on the door again.

'Up!' she screeched. Harry rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

'Get up, Harry. Come on,' Charlotte mumbled sleepily, tugging his arm. She pulled a jumper over her head and stood at the door, her arms folded.

Their aunt was back outside the door.

'Are you two up yet?' She demanded.

'Nearly,' Charlotte said.

'Well, get a move on, for God's sake. I want you to make breakfast. And make it good, everything needs to be perfect for Dudley's birthday.'

Harry groaned.

'What did you say?' his aunt snapped through the door.

'Nothing. He didn't say anything,' Charlotte replied hastily, shooting her brother a leery glare. He stuck his tongue out in response, shamelessly apathetic.

Harry climbed out of bed begrudgingly and started looking for socks. He found a pair under the bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry and Charlotte were used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where they slept.

The pair dressed and went down the hall into the kitchen, where the table was hidden under a mountain of birthday presents for Dudley, who was sulking querulously because he wanted forty presents and only had thirty-five. His mother attempted to soothe his outburst by promising to buy him five more presents to make it up. He immediately demanded a racing bike. Charlotte rolled her eyes indiscreetly. Exactly why he wanted a racing bike was a mystery, as the boy was fat and hated exercise – unless it involved punching somebody, especially when that somebody was Harry.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a broom closet, but the Potter twins had always been small and skinny for their age. Harry looked even small and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair and bright-green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Sellotape because of all the times Dudley had punched his nose.

It would seem the world had been much kinder to Charlotte. For starters, she wasn't forced to wear her obese cousin's tattered hand-me-downs; the Polkiss family, close friends of the Dursleys, were kind enough to gift her with their daughter Tatum's old clothes, most of which were well kept and of good taste. Charlotte was quite a pretty young lady, with soft, hazel eyes, long eyelashes, a freckled nose and long hair that was exceptionally straight and a beautiful shade of dark brown. She and Harry had the same, long face. Much to the Dursley's relief, there was nothing unusual, disproportionate or unsightly about Charlotte's appearance. She was pleasantly ordinary-looking indeed.

The same could not be said for Harry. He was scrawny and scruffy. No matter how much time had been spent trying to remedy the fact, his hair simply insisted on growing all over the place, unable to be tamed. Last of all, he had a very thin scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. Harry liked it, but Aunt Petunia most certainly did not, and insisted he hide it with his fringe at all times.

'Comb your hair!' Uncle Vernon barked at Harry, by way of morning greeting, once he had realised the twin's presence in the room. 'And hurry up with that breakfast, you lazy boy! What happens if our guests arrive and we've nothing to serve them?' Harry made his way over to the stove, not bothering with a response.

Dudley greedily unwrapped his presents as Petunia paced the room, aimlessly straightening furniture and wiping photos that were already clean. Her eyes were scanning the room when they landed on Charlotte.

'Charlotte, make some coffee, will you.'

Charlotte made her way into the kitchen, she and Harry exchanging dreary looks as Petunia continued to chatter pointlessly.

'Good to see you're wearing some nice clothes, Charlotte. The Polkiss' will he pleased, I'm sure. Isn't it just so kind of them to give us Tatum's old clothes? So thoughtful.'

'Yes, Aunt Petunia.' Charlotte replied flatly.

'The boy, what are we going to do about him, Vernon? He can't sit and eat with us in that state. He looks a disgrace.'

'What're we to do, Petunia? Hide him in the cupboard? They know he lives here, they'll wonder where he is. We needn't have them think something strange is going on.'

'Oh, no. Of course not. I'll just make him change into something less… dowdy.'

The Dursley's often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there – or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. They did not often do the same to Charlotte, however. They made no effort to conceal the fact they preferred her much more.

Harry put the plates of egg, bacon, toast and tomato on the table just as Charlotte approached with a jug of coffee and milk. She gave him an apologetic glance. He shook his head; it wasn't her fault. She couldn't help it.

'Go find some nicer clothes to wear, boy! Why you would choose to dress so badly when you _know_ we have guests coming… if you're not simple, I'll eat my hat…' Uncle Vernon growled at Harry, who rushed off to the cupboard before he could say any more. Harry emerged, wearing the best of Dudley's hand-me-downs he could find, just as the doorbell rang. Petunia seized him roughly by the shoulder and forced him down the hall.

'Answer the door, would you, Charlotte?' She called, in a sing-song voice she only put on when other people were present. After pushing Harry into the kitchen she rushed off to greet the Polkiss'.

Harry turned to find Uncle Vernon towering over him, a fat finger pointed inches away from his nose. 'I'm warning you. I'm warning you now, boy – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.'

'I'm not going to do anything,' said Harry, 'honestly…'

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left 'to hide that horrible scar.' Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to tell them that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's. The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

Charlotte was very lucky, as Harry continuously reminded her, in the way that nothing strange ever happened to her. She never acted in a way she shouldn't, just as the Dursley's preferred. This was the primary reason for their favouritism of her in comparison to her brother. That, and Charlotte was always quiet, pleasant, and unassuming. She was always on her best behaviour, because – as she'd told Harry time and time again – 'it was just easier that way.'

'She's growing up so much, isn't she Petunia?' Mrs Polkiss cooed as Aunt Petunia, Charlotte and the Polkiss family entered the living room, 'and don't Tatum's clothes just suit her so well?'

'Yes, isn't she just?' Aunt Petunia replied, her bony hand on Charlotte's shoulder, a superficial smile plastered across her face, 'thank you so much again for kindly giving those clothes to us. We are _most_ appreciative.'

The group joined Vernon, Harry and Dudley at the dining table. Piers Polkiss, a lanky, nasty looking boy, with a face like a rat, immediately seated himself next to Dudley. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Piers and Harry exchanged antagonistic glances, before Piers helped himself to more bacon than was necessary.

'Don't be ridiculous, Petunia, it's the least we could do,' Mrs Polkiss replied, patting Aunt Petunia's hand, 'I know it must be difficult for you. You are _so_ brave.'

'We do our best,' Aunt Petunia said, smiling. One of the only things the twins were good for in the Dursley's mind was the attention and pity they aroused from others. They never tired of hearing about how selfless and caring they are to take in their niece and nephew, what a grand personal sacrifice it was to do something so courageous, and never tired of telling people how difficult it was to raise not only their Dudley but also not one, but two other children at the same time. Apart from sticking her long, pointed, beak of a nose into other people's business, Aunt Petunia loved nothing more than playing the victim in order to be the centre of attention.

For some time they all sat at the table eating; Piers and Dudley murmured amongst themselves, Harry and Charlotte communicated wordlessly in blatant discomfort, and the adults spent a great deal of time listening to Uncle Vernon complain. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, the twins, the bank and Harry were just a few of his favourite subjects. This morning, it was the gardens the council had been planting around the neighbourhood.

'… tacky, waste of taxpayer's money, a donkey could do a better job in charge than that lot…'

When he paused to wolf down a very large helping of eggs and bacon, Mrs Polkiss changed the subject.

'Excited for middle school, Dudley?' She asked, her voice the sort of sweet, high-pitched one you put on for a toddler, 'I know Piers is.'

'Yes, Mrs Polkiss,' Dudley replied smugly.

'Will the boy be attending Smelting's too, Petunia?' Mrs Polkiss asked briskly. It was the first time she had acknowledged Harry since they had arrived. This was not out of the ordinary- she shared the opinion of most that there was something off about him. Not many people gave him a chance; they preferred to avoid that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses.

'No, no. He gets in too much trouble, you see. We're sending him to Stonewall High.'

'Don't blame yourself, Petunia. Sometimes these things can't be helped.'

With that, Charlotte cleared her throat. 'May we be excused?' She asked politely.

'Oh, um, very well.' Aunt Petunia said. Dudley and Piers took that as an invitation to leave as well, and ran upstairs to Dudley's room. The twins went and sat outside in the garden. Charlotte didn't try to comfort Harry. They both knew this was just the way things were.

* * *

One morning in July, something quite strange happened. Two letters arrived in the post; one for each of the twins. When Harry found them, he stared, confused. No one, ever, in their whole lives, had written to them. Who would? They had no other relatives, no real friends… yet here they were, two letters, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

 _Mr H. Potter_

 _The Cupboard under the Stairs_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging, Surrey_

 _Miss C. Potter_

 _The Cupboard under the Stairs_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging, Surrey_

Harry immediately went and showed Charlotte the letters, but before the twins could open them Dudley alerted his father, who promptly snatched the letters out of their hands. Upon reading one of the letters, Uncle Vernon's face turned the colour of old porridge. He called Aunt Petunia over and showed her; she looked as if she might faint.

'Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!'

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten the children were still in the room. Harry and Charlotte looked at each other questioningly- something very strange was going on here. Dudley tried to snatch the letter from Uncle Vernon, who held it out of his reach. Not used to being ignored, he hit his father and demanded he give him the letter. Harry then interjected that he wanted to read it, as it was _his_. Eventually, after much protesting, Uncle Vernon forced them out of the room.

Harry listened to the following conversation between his Aunt and Uncle through the door.

'Vernon,' Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, 'look at the address – how could they know where the twins sleep? Do you think they're watching the house?'

'Watching – spying – might be following us,' muttered Uncle Vernon wildly, pacing the room.

. 'We'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer… yes, that's best… we won't do anything…'

'But – maybe we should write back, tell them we don't want -'

'I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took them in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?'

When Uncle Vernon returned home from work that evening, he did something he'd never done before; visited the twins in their cupboard. While there, he told them they would be moving into Dudley's second bedroom, as they were getting a bit big for the cupboard.

It took the twins just one trip to move everything they owned up to one of the four bedrooms in the Dursley's house, one which had previously been used as a second bedroom for Dudley, to store all of the things that wouldn't fit into his first one. The twins sat on the bed, surrounded by the broken, dust covered things their cousin had long since abandoned. They could hear Dudley bawling to his mother that he didn't want them to take his room, that he _needed_ it.

'What is going on, Charlie?'

'I wish I knew, brother. Did you read any of the letters?'

'No, he took them before I could get one unfolded.'

'What do you reckon they meant, with all that "stamp out that dangerous nonsense" stuff?'

'No clue.'

The next few days saw more and more strange behaviour. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting's stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof and still he didn't have his room back. Every morning the strange letters arrived in the post saw Uncle Vernon become more and more insane. He'd burned, shredded and torn every letter that arrived for the twins, each day going to more drastic measures to keep them from entering the house. He'd nailed up the letter-box, and when that didn't work, he progressed to boarding up all the cracks around the front and back doors so no-one could get out. The day after that they arrived, rolled up in the two dozen eggs a very confused milkman handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. Uncle Vernon hummed 'Tiptoe through the Tulips' as he gradually enclosed the entire house, and jumped at small noises.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat at the kitchen table, spreading marmalade on his newspapers, happily reminding the family, 'no post on Sundays. No post on Sundays. No damn letters today - '

At that moment, forty odd letters came flying out the fireplace like bullets. Harry tried to grab one, but Uncle Vernon seized him around the waist, grabbed Charlotte's arm and threw them into the hall.

'That does it!' He yelled, once everyone had retreated from the kitchen, pulling great tufts out of his moustache as he spoke. 'Pack your clothes, I want everyone ready in five minutes, we're leaving! No arguments!'

He looked so dangerous with half his moustache missing no-one dared argue. He hit Dudley round the head for holding them up by trying to pack his television in his sports bag, and in ten minutes they were driving. Not even Aunt Petunia dared ask where to. Every so often Uncle Vernon would do a U-turn and drive in the opposite direction.

'Shake 'em off… shake 'em off,' he would mutter whenever he did this. Charlotte secretly found his behaviour quite amusing. She did not dare laugh, however, as he had become a raving lunatic and was unpredictable at best.

They stopped at a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of the city, but still the letters followed. Uncle Vernon once again drove the family across the country aimlessly, before parking somewhere on the coast and locking the family in the car. Dudley was sulking that it was Monday and he wanted to watch "The Great Humberto's".

Monday. Harry and Charlotte exchanged knowing looks. If it _was_ Monday – and you could usually rely on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television – that meant tomorrow was the twin's eleventh birthday. Their birthdays were never exactly fun – last year, the Dursley's gave Harry and old coat hanger and a pair of socks, and Charlotte an old encyclopaedia of cacti species which they no doubt found lying about in the attic. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon returned smiling, carrying a long, thin package and telling them all he'd found the perfect place, that there was a storm forecast for tonight and some kind gentleman had lent them his boat. After what seemed like hours rowing the tiny fishing boat they reached a large rock way out to sea, perched on top of which was the most miserable little shack imaginable.

The inside stank of seaweed, the wind whistling loudly through the gaps in the wooden walls. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon went off to sleep on the lumpy bed in the second of two rooms, while Dudley was soon snoring on the moth-eaten sofa, leaving the twins to cuddle up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket, on the softest bit of floor. It was too cold and stormy to sleep, so they stayed up, Charlotte scribbling with a stick on the dirt floor and Harry watching the lighted dial of Dudley's watch, counting down the minutes till their birthday.

'Uncle Vernon seems pretty pleased with himself.' Charlotte said.

'Yeah, obviously he thinks nobody would stand a chance reaching us here in a storm to deliver post.' Harry replied gloomily, secretly agreeing. 'Five minutes to go until our birthday.'

'Do you think they'll remember at all?'

'Doubt it.' Harry heard something creak outside. 'I hope the roof doesn't fall in. Though maybe we'd be warmer if it did.'

'What's that funny crunching noise? Is the rock crumbling into the sea?'

'One minute to go, and we'll be eleven.' Harry counted down, wondering if he should wake Dudley, just to annoy him, 'thirty seconds… twenty… ten – nine'

Charlotte joined in from here, and the two's chanting grew increasingly louder as they progressed, 'three – two – one!'

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, grabbing Charlotte's hand instinctively. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

 **Please review!**


	2. The Hut on the Rock

The knocking continued, waking the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon came skidding in to the room, holding a rifle – now they knew what the package had been. Suddenly, the door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and landed flat on the floor with a crash.

A giant of a man, with a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, squeezed his way into the shack. He strode over to where Dudley sat, frozen with fear, on the sofa.

'Budge up, yeh great lump,' said the stranger. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his parents.

'What the…' Charlotte muttered to herself, watching the man lumber around the room, making himself quite at home.

'An' here's the twins!' the giant said, his wild, shadowy face and beetle eyes crinkled into a smile. 'Last time I saw you two you was only babies. Yeh look just like yer mum an' dad.'

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. 'I demand that you leave at once, sir!'

'Shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,' the giant said, snatching away Uncle Vernon's gun before twisting it into a knot and tossing it aside. Charlotte could've sworn she broke two ribs trying not to laugh at this strange man calling her uncle a "great prune".

'Anyway – Harry and Charlotte,' he said, turning his back on the Dursleys, 'a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yer here – I mighta sat on it, but it'll taste alright.'

From a pocket inside his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box, which Charlotte opened nervously. Inside was a large chocolate cake with _happy birthday twins_ written on it in green icing.

'Thank you,' Charlotte mumbled, still perplexed.

Harry looked up at the giant, 'Who are you?' The giant laughed.

'True, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. You can call me Hagrid. Everyone does,' he said, as he lit a fire and started to make some tea in a kettle he pulled out of his pocket. The way he kept pulling strange objects from his coat reminded Charlotte of Mary Poppins' bag.

'Pardon me for asking, but what is Hogwarts?' Charlotte asked, genuinely confused.

'Yeh'll know about Hogwarts, you must do,' he said, looking from Charlotte to Harry expectantly.

'Er – no,' said Harry. Hagrid looked shocked. Harry quickly added, 'Sorry.'

' _Sorry?_ ' Hagrid barked, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank into the shadows. Hagrid proceeded to express his outrage that the Dursleys had told them nothing about "their world" and "where their parents had learnt it all". Charlotte and Harry looked from each other to Hagrid, wondering desperately what he was talking about.

'I'm sorry to interrupt,' Charlotte began. Hagrid turned to her, looking as if he was about to explode with anger, from where he had been lecturing the Dursley's, who were cowering against the wall. 'But what do you mean "where our parents learnt it all"? All what?'

'Do you mean ter tell me,' Hagrid growled at the Dursleys, 'that these kids know nothin' abou- about anything?'

Harry thought this was going a bit far. They went to school, and their marks weren't bad.

'We know _some_ things,' he said. 'We can, you know, do maths and stuff.'

Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry and Charlotte with a bewildered stare. 'Yeh don' know… Yeh don't know what yeh _are_?'

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. 'Stop! I forbid you to tell the children anything!' he commanded, 'I FORBID YOU!'

Aunt Petunia gasped in horror.

'Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,' said Hagrid, turning to the twins once more. 'Harry – yer a wizard. And Charlotte, yer a witch.'

There was a silence inside the hut. Charlotte and Harry stared at each other in total confusion. Aunt Petunia looked as if she would faint at any minute. Uncle Vernon had turned beet red.

' _What?_ ' Harry gasped. Charlotte simply frowned, thoroughly sceptical.

'Yer magical. A wizard and a witch. Damn good ones, I'd say, once yer trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, you'd 'ave to be. I reckon its abou' time yeh read yer letters.'

He held out two letters to the twins. Charlotte took the yellowish envelope addresses in emerald green to _Miss C. Potter, The Floor, Hut-On-The-Rock, The Sea._ She pulled out the letter and read:

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY._

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Miss Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress._

Charlotte looked up, still frowning, at Harry, deep in thought. She could tell Harry's head was exploding with questions, but he seemed far more at peace with the situation. She, however, could not believe this at all. It was just absurd.

'What does it mean, "we await your owl?"' Harry stammered eventually.

'Galloping Gorgons, that reminds me,' Hagrid said. He slapped his forehead hard, and from yet another pocket he pulled an owl – a real, live, rather scruffy looking owl – a feather quill and a piece of parchment. Charlotte was just about at the end of her tether with this nonsense. An owl. In his pocket. Hagrid scribbled a note, gave it to the owl, went to the door and threw the owl out into the storm as if this behaviour was as normal as talking on the phone.

'Where was I?' Said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

'They're not going.' He said.

Hagrid grunted. 'I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him', he said.

'A what?' Asked Harry, interested.

'A muggle,' said Hagrid. 'It's what we call non-magic folk like them.'

'We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish,' said Uncle Vernon, 'swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard and witch indeed!'

'You _knew_?' Charlotte hissed, suddenly quite angry.

'Knew!' Shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. ' _Knew_! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that - that _school_ \- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!'

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had wanted to say all this for years.

'Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – _abnormal_ \- then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!'

Charlotte had curled her hands into fists, glowering at her Aunt with a loathing she had managed to suppress for most of her years. Her eyes seemed to flash red with rage – this happened often when she was angry, but nobody except Harry ever paid enough attention to notice.

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, 'Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!'

'CAR CRASH!' roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Durleys scuttled back into their corner.

'How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! The Potters not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!'

'But why? What happened?' Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

'I never expected this,' he said, in a low, worried voice. 'I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn'know. Ah, Harry, I don'know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh - but someone's gotta - yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'.'

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

'Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh', I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…' He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, 'It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows - '

'Who?'

'Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does.'

'Why not?' Charlotte enquired, not so guarded and sceptical anymore.

'Gulpin' gargoyles, Charlotte, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…'

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

'Could you write it down?' Harry suggested.

'Nah – can't spell it. All right - Voldemort.' Hagrid shuddered. He went on to tell the twins all of what he knew. That, some twenty years ago, Voldemort started to gain followers. Hagrid called them 'dark days', saying terrible things started happening, that Voldemort was taking over because no-one would stand up to him and most think Dumbledore was the only person he was afraid of. He told the twins that their mother and father were 'as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew'; that they were head boy and girl at Hogwarts. One day he turned up in the village where their family lived, when the twins were just one year old. 'Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em to join the dark side… maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way.' He said. You-Know-Who killed them.

'Here's the real myst'ry of the thing – he tried to kill you, too' Hagrid continued, looking at Harry. 'But he couldn't do it. Ever wondered how you got that mark on your forehead? That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh. That's why yer famous. No-one ever lived after he decided to kill 'em. No-one except you.'

Hagrid watched the twins sadly. 'Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…'

'Load of old tosh,' said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

'Now, you listen here, you two,' he snarled, 'I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured - and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion - asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types - just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end - '

Enraged, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. 'One more word, Dursley… I'm waning you…' He growled, pointing the umbrella at him like a sword. Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened against the wall and fell silent.

'What happened to Vol – sorry – I mean, You-Know-Who?' Charlotte enquired.

'Good question, Charlotte. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see… he was getting' more an' more powerful – why'd he go? Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' they could've done if he was comin' back. Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. Somethin' about Harry finished him.'

Hagrid looked at the twins with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes. 'You wait – you'll be right famous at Hogwarts.'

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight. 'Haven't I told you they're not going?' He hissed. 'They're going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they need all sorts of rubbish – spell books and wands and - '

'If they want to go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them. Stop Lily and James Potter's children going ter Hogwarts! Yer mad, their names 'ave been down since they was born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world to be with youngsters of their own sort and be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled-'

'I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH THEM MAGIC TRICKS!' Yelled Uncle Vernon.

He had gone too far. Hagrid seized the umbrella and whirled it over his head. 'NEVER-' He thundered, 'INSULT – ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!' He brought the umbrella down and pointed it at Dudley – there was a flash of light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal and the next second Dudley was dancing on the spot holding his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back, the twins saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared, pulled Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room and slammed the door.

'Shouldn'ta lost me temper,' Hagrid said ruefully, looking at the twins under his bushy eyebrows. 'Be grateful if yeh don't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts. I'm – er – not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'.'

Harry would've asked why, but he was too busy watching Charlotte, who was snickering deviously. She had wanted to laugh for a while – from Uncle Vernon's amusing spiral to insanity, Hagrid calling him a great prune, the revalation that she was a witch, and now Dudley being given a pigs tail, it was all too much.

' _Charlie_!' Harry hissed, scowling at her. He hardly thought it was appropriate of her to laugh at the moment. She smirked at Harry, but her laughter ceased. Hagrid watched them affectionately.

'It's getting' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow,' he said, tossing Harry his thick black coat. 'You two can kip under that.'


	3. Diagon Alley

Harry woke early the next morning, expecting the previous day's shenanigans to have been nothing more than a dream. When he opened his eyes, however, he was still on the floor of the old hut, underneath Hagrid's heavy coat. The giant man was still there, asleep on the sofa. Harry sat up, so happy felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him.

'Charlie! Charlie!' He whispered excitedly, shaking his sister awake. 'It wasn't a dream, it was real!'

'Hmm, how wonderful. Thanks for that…' She replied sarcastically, before stretching and sitting up beside him. '… but I probably would've survived without you waking me with a reminder.'

Harry stared at her, confused. Why wasn't she happier? He thought being told he was a wizard, and was going off to a school to make friends with other witches and wizards of his kind, was the best news he'd ever received in his life.

'You don't sound too pleased. Why?'

She looked at him for a short time before turning away to inspect her hands instead. 'It's just, I think there may have been a mistake, or something.' She said softly. 'You, I can see being a wizard. Strange things always happen to you. But me? What've I ever done? I'm nothing special.'

'Rubbish.' Hagrid said gruffly. Their talking must've woken him. He yawned loudly and stood up, staring at Charlotte pointedly. 'Charlotte Potter, not a witch! Never made anything happen when you were sad, or angry? Think really hard about it, you'll see. If you're without magic, I'm a barmy dragon.'

Charlotte thought closely about it. She could remember a small handful of occasions where strange things occurred – the toaster exploding one morning when Aunt Petunia was yelling at her for giving attitude, for example – but these were nothing in comparison to Harry's escapades. Before she could voice this, however, Hagrid made it apparent he would hear no more on the subject.

'Best be off, then, got lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer things fer school.'

'Um – Hagrid?' Harry said.

'Mm?' Responded Hagrid, who was putting on his huge boots.

'We haven't got any money – you heard Uncle Vernon, he won't pay for us to go and learn magic.'

'Don't worry about that, Harry! D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything? First stop for us is Gringotts, the wizard bank.'

'Wizards have _banks?_ ' Charlotte asked, abandoning the self-doubt she had experienced earlier.

'Just the one, Gringotts. Run by goblins.'

' _Goblins?_ ' Harry gasped, his mouth open in disbelief.

'Yeah – so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, you two.' He inspected the room and lifted his coat up off the floor. 'Got everythin'? Come on, then.'

The twins followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The storm had subsided, leaving a clear sky. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, filled with water after the storm.

'How'd you get here?' Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

'Flew. But we'll go back in this. Not supposed ter do magic now I've got yeh.'

They settled down in the boat, Harry staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

After the twins promised they wouldn't mention him using magic when he wasn't supposed to, Hagrid tapped it with his umbrella and it sped off towards land.

'Why aren't you supposed to do magic?' Charlotte quizzed.

'Oh, well -I was at Hogwarts meself but I - er - got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.'

'Why'd you get expelled?' Charlotte questioned further, ignoring Hagrid's obvious discomfort.

Hagrid cleared his throat. 'It's not important.' He replied hastily, unfolding a newspaper from inside his coat pocket and starting to read it. Harry glared at Charlotte for making Hagrid uncomfortable. She just shrugged.

'Ministry of Magic, messin' things up, as usual,' Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

'There's a Ministry of Magic?' Harry asked. He tried not to ask too many questions, but it was very difficult. He'd never had so many questions in his life.

'Course. They wanted Dumbledore for minister, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. Pelts Dumbledore with owls every mornin', asking fer advice.'

'What does the ministry _do_?'

'Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country.'

'Why?' Charlotte piped in. Hagrid looked relieved she'd dropped the subject of his expulsion.

'Why? Blimey, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone.'

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

* * *

Passers-by stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Charlotte couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, 'See that, kids? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?'

They reached the station, and caught a train to London. Hagrid took up two seats.

'Still got yer letters?' he asked.

Harry and Charlotte took the parchment envelopes out of their pockets.

'Good,' said Hagrid. 'There's a list there of everything yeh need.'

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _UNIFORM_

 _First-year students will require:_

 _1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

 _2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

 _3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

 _4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

 _Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

 _COURSE BOOKS_

 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

 _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

 _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

 _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

 _OTHER EQUIPMENT_

 _1 wand_

 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

 _1 set glass or crystal phials_

 _1 telescope_

 _1 set brass scales_

 _Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

'Can we buy all this in London?' Charlotte wondered aloud.

'If yeh know where to go,' said Hagrid. They got off the train and Hagrid lead them through the city to a tiny, grubby looking pub called _'The Leaky Cauldron'._ The people hurrying by didn't glance at it and Charlotte had the feeling only she, Harry and Hagrid knew it was there. Inside were a number of unusual people: a few old women in the corner, a little man in a top hat, and the old barman, who was quite bald and looked like a gummy walnut. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the barman reached for a glass, saying 'the usual, Hagrid?'

'Can't Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business,' said Hagrid grabbing Charlotte's shoulder a little hard and clapping his great hand on Harry's back, making his knees buckle.

Tom stared at the twins strangely for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out something, before leaning forward in astonishment.

'Good Lord,' he said, peering at Harry, 'is this - can this be - ?'

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

'Bless my soul,' whispered the old bartender, 'Harry and Charlotte Potter… what an honour.'

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. He leaned over and held Charlotte's hand with his other arm.

'Welcome back, beautiful children, welcome back.'

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at them. Charlotte was frowning slightly, uncomfortable. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, they found themselves shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

The twins shook hands again and again and again. A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

'Professor Quirrell!' said Hagrid. 'Harry, Charlotte, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.'

'P-P-Potter,' stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, 'c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.' He looked over at Charlotte, 'and y-y-you t-too,'

'What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?'

'D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts,' muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. 'N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?' He laughed nervously. 'You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.' He looked terrified at the very thought.

It took almost ten minutes to get away from all the people who wanted to talk to the two Potters. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

'Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, kids.' He led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at the twins.

'Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin'.'

Hagrid was counting the bricks on the wall above the trash can. Charlotte watched him in confusion.

'That was…' Harry began, but Charlotte interrupted him before he could finish.

'A thoroughly discomforting experience? Terrible? Comprehensively unsettling?'

'Three up… two across…' Hagrid muttered, before turning to Charlotte, smiling, 'not a lover of attention, I take it.'

'Not really a people person,' she responded. Hagrid nodded understandingly.

'Right, stand back, you two,' he said, before tapping the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - grew wider and wider- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

'Welcome,' said Hagrid, 'to Diagon Alley.'

* * *

He grinned at the twins' amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into a solid wall.

The closest shop had a stack of cauldrons outside of it. There was an owl emporium, shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eel's eyes, tottering piles of spellbooks, quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction, trying to look at everything at once. Charlotte was watching a group of boys around their age with their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. 'Look-' she heard one say, 'the new Nimbus Two Thousand – fastest ever - '. They ride broomsticks, she thought to herself, as Harry questioned Hagrid about magical creatures, listening eagerly as the bearded man relayed tales of dragons and vampires. Of course they do.

'Gringotts,' said Hagrid, interrupting her train of thought. They had reached a snowy-white building that towered over the other shops. Hagrid turned to Charlotte.

'Listen, Charlotte - ' He began.

'You can call me Charlie, if you want.' She interrupted absently, trying to look past him at a tiny, uniformed man standing by the door, with a pointed beard and long fingers and feet.

'Alright then,' Hagrid replied, seeming chuffed the two had reached a nickname basis. 'We can't all go in, so maybe yeh can head down ter Madam Malkin's an' get yer robes, then we'll meet yeh once we've got some money.'

'Okay,' Charlotte said wearily, watching Hagrid and her brother disappear through Gringott's large bronze doors. She scanned the street before spotting _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions._ Once inside she was greeted by Madam Malkin; a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve.

'Hogwarts, dear?' The witch said. 'Got the lot here – another young man just came in to get fitted, in fact.'

In the back of the shop a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long, black robes. Madam Malkin stood Charlotte on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over her head and began to pin it to the right length.

'Hullo,' said the boy. 'Hogwarts too?'

'Yes,' said Charlotte, preoccupied thinking about the robes. 'Do we have to wear these all the time?' She wondered out loud.

'Uhh- only during lessons, I think.' The boy replied. He had a drawling voice.

'Seems strange, a school full of children dressed in identical black cloaks. Like some cult, or something.' Charlotte mused.

'Well, they won't be black for long. After you're sorted they change to match your house colours.'

'House?' Charlotte questioned, watching the boy expectantly.

'You know, the four Hogwarts houses…' The boy began. Charlotte gave a blank look. 'You're a muggle-born, then.' He said shortly, upon realising she was unfamiliar with the concept.

'Huh? No, my parents were magical.'

'They haven't told you about Hogwarts?'

'They're dead, so they don't really tell me much of anything.' Charlotte responded shortly.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…' Said the boy hastily.

Charlotte waved her hand at him. 'Don't let it keep you up at night. You couldn't have known,' she said, not wanting to dwell on the matter. 'What are the houses, then?'

'Oh, well, there's Slytherin, which is the best house. I'll be in Slytherin, all my family has been. Its traits are ambition and cunning… it's the best house.'

'Don't you think your opinion might be a _little_ bias?' Charlotte teased, glad to be having a semi-normal conversation with a wizard.

'I guess.' The boy responded, smiling slightly. 'There's also Gryffindor. Courage and daring are their traits, I think. My father says Gryffindor is for the "foolishly brave", anyway. Then there's Ravenclaw; intelligence and wit. Last is Hufflepuff. Kindness, or something silly like that, it's where the goody-two-shoes end up.'

'Is that a fact?'

Before the boy could respond, Harry entered the shop, smiling widely at Charlotte. She was about to introduce him to the boy when the witch pinning his robes said, 'That's you done, my dear,' and he hopped down from the footstool.

'I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,' he said, before exiting the shop.

'Yeah, see you,' Charlotte responded, surprised that she may have actually made a friend, and they hadn't even got to school yet.

Madam Malkin finished Charlotte's robes, and she stood, waiting, while Harry had his own fitted.

'Who was that?' Harry asked her.

'I didn't get his name, actually. He's going to Hogwarts with us, though, so I guess we'll soon find out. Where's Hagrid?' Said Charlotte, only just noticing his absence.

'He went back to the leaky cauldron. He said he needed a "pick me up". We rode these little railway carts to the vault and they made him ill.'

'Railway carts?' Harry nodded keenly.

'Yeah, it was awesome, you should've seen it.' He gushed. 'There was this huge system of tunnels, and so many vaults, and the carts steered themselves, and a goblin named Griphook took us around and told us that if people try to break in to a vault they get trapped inside for ten years. And our vault – we've a small fortune in there, Charlie! If the Dursleys knew about it…'

Charlotte was about to say something, but Harry continued excitedly.

'And we went to this vault, number seven hundred and thirteen, and Hagrid took this tiny package out and told me he couldn't say what it was, that it was top-secret Hogwarts business and telling me would be worth more than his job. It was so cool.'

'Sounds like it.' Charlotte said finally. She was not disappointed she had missed out – she was glad, rather, that Hagrid had taken Harry and not her. Her appreciation for the experience would've been much less than his.

* * *

Once they got their robes, Hagrid took the twins to buy parchment and quills, and then to a shop called Flourish and Blotts to buy school books. The shop was filled with shelves, stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather, books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk, books filled with strange runes and books with nothing at all. Later, Harry found a solid gold cauldron and tried to convince Hagrid to let them buy it.

'So, yeh only jus' get yer hands on some money, an' yeh want ter spend it all in one go, on a solid gold cauldron?' Hagrid asked him playfully.

'Go big or go home, right Harry?' Said Charlotte with a smile.

'Listen, it says pewter on yer list, so not this time.'

They visited the apothecary's and bought some basic potions ingredients. While Hagrid ordered at the counter Harry examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one galleons each and Charlotte screwed her nose at a barrel full of beetle eyes for five knuts a scoop.

'Hey, what is this currency, anyway?' Charlotte asked her brother. 'What's a knut?'

'It's the wizarding currency. There's three coins; the gold ones are galleons, the silver ones sickles and little bronze ones are called knuts,' Harry told her. 'Hagrid said in Gringott's there are seventeen sickles in a galleon and twenty-nine knuts in a sickle.'

Outside, Hagrid checked the list again.

'Just yer wands left – oh, an' I still haven't got yeh birthday presents.'

Harry's face went red, 'you don't have to - ' he began.

'I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yeh a pet each.' Hagrid responded shortly. 'Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at…'

'Could I get a cat?' Charlotte interjected. She remembered reading students could take cats in her letter, and she'd always loved them.

'Well, I don' much like cats, they make me sneeze…' Hagrid began, but after seeing Charlotte smiling hopefully up at him, he sighed in defeat. 'Alright then, yeh can get a cat. How 'bout you, Harry?'

Harry thought about it, but he couldn't make a decision. 'I'm not sure…' He said finally.

'Why don' we get yer an owl? All the kids want owls; they're dead useful, carry yer post an' everythin'.' Hagrid offered. Harry nodded eagerly, and so the trio set off. First they visited The Magical Menagerie, where Hagrid bought a very grateful Charlotte a beautiful white Van Ragdoll kitten with big eyes as blue as the sea. Charlotte absolutely adored her.

After this, they headed to Eeylops Owl Emporium, and when they left Harry was carrying a large cage which held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. Charlotte and Harry thanked Hagrid endlessly.

'Don' mention it. Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys.' he said gruffly, before steering them off to a narrow shabby shop, with a sign over the door that read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC._

Inside it was a tiny place, empty except for one chair which Hagrid sat on to wait, and thousands of narrow boxes stacked neatly right up to the ceiling. There was a strange feel about the place.

'Good afternoon,' said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid got quickly off the spindly chair. Charlotte whispered 'Jesus', in shock. In front of them was an old man, with wide pale eyes that shone like moons.

'Hello,' said Harry awkwardly.

'Ah yes,' said the man. 'Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. The Potters.' It wasn't a question. 'You have your mother's eyes, Harry. It seems like only yesterday she was in here buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, willow. Nice wand for charm work.

Mr Ollivander moved close to Charlotte. She found his silvery eyes and the fact he had yet failed to blink creepy.

'You on the other hand, Charlotte, are a spitting image of your father. He favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.'

Mr Ollivander moved even closer, facing Harry, so close they were almost nose to nose. 'And that's where…' He reached out and touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. 'I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,' he said softly. 'Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…'

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, broke his gaze and turned back to Charlotte.

'Well, now, we best get started finding you two some wands. Miss Potter, let me see…' He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. 'Which is your wand arm?'

Charlotte guessed her "wand arm" and writing arm would be the same, and answered 'right'. Mr Ollivander then told her to hold out her arm and began to measure her from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around her head. Mr Ollivander was telling her and Harry about wand cores and how no two wands were the same, but Charlotte wasn't really listening, instead watching in awe as the tape measured ridiculous lengths, such as that between her nostrils, entirely on its own. Mr Ollivander was flittering around the shelves, taking down boxes.

'That will do,' he said, and the tape measure crumpled to a head on the floor. 'Right then, Miss Potter, try this one. Rosewood and phoenix feather. Nine inches. Rather pliable. Just take it and give it a wave.'

Charlotte reluctantly took the wand and, feeling like an idiot, waved it around a little, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

'Willow and unicorn hair. Quite springy. Try - ' Charlotte tried, but had hardly raised the wand when it too was snatched away.

'No, no – here, beech and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, whippy. Go on, try it out.'

Charlotte tried again, but still nothing happened. She was wondering what on earth Mr Ollivander was waiting for. She looked over at Harry, who was clearly enthralled by the situation. He would be, of course – getting a magic wand, he'd have been waiting for this all day. Harry was unfalteringly curious.

Mr Ollivander walked over and scanned the wall of boxes once more. Suddenly, one certain box caught his eye. He looked over and inspected Charlotte for a moment, before inhaling sharply and, seemingly coming to a decision, pulled it from the shelf and handed it to Charlotte apprehensively.

'We'll try this one, yes,' he muttered. 'Cherry and dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches, quite rigid.'

Charlotte took the wand and instantly felt a warmth in her fingers. She raised it above her head and brought it swooshing down through the dusty air. It left a stream of silver and gold sparks shooting from the end like fireworks. Hagrid and Harry clapped and Mr Ollivander cried 'Oh, bravo! Yes, very good, indeed… quite interesting, however. Yes… well, well…' He put Charlotte's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, muttering, 'interesting…'

'What's interesting about it?' Charlotte asked. He was being even more strange than usual, and she didn't really appreciate it. He fixed her with his pale stare.

'Wands crafted from cherry wood are rare, Miss Potter, and possess truly lethal power. Dragon heartstring is equally as powerful. It learns spells quickly, bonds well with its owner… Cherry and dragon heartstring is a somewhat perilous combination. A wand like this would only go to a witch with exceptional self-control and strength of mind. A witch with the capacity to perform genuinely exceptional magic. I dare say we should think big when it comes to you, Miss Potter. It seems the best is yet to be.'

He smiled down at Charlotte, who slowly took the wand from him and went to stand by Hagrid, all the while thinking that she didn't appreciate that creepy old geezer's behaviour at all. Mr Ollivander then moved on to Harry, who tried even more wands than Charlotte. The pile of tried and failed wands was mounting higher and higher and Charlotte was growing more bored, wondering if they were ever going to find a wand for him. Eventually, Mr Ollivander, seeming more happy with each unsuccessful attempt, pulled a box off the shelf, saying, 'I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination, just like your sister. Holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple, eleven inches.' Harry took the wand and, much to Charlotte's relief, it reacted just as hers did.

'Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious… curious…' he muttered as he wrapped the wand. Charlotte couldn't help but roll her eyes. Why did he have to be _so weird_?

'Sorry,' said Harry, 'but _what's_ curious?'

'I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand.' Mr Ollivander said solemnly. 'It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave one other feather. It is very curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, it's brother gave you that scar. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter… After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great.'

Harry shivered. They hastily paid seven galleons each for their wands and Mr Ollivander bowed them from the shop.

'I'm not sure I like Mr Ollivander too much,' Harry said.

'Amen,' declared Charlotte.

The three, laden with all their funny shaped packages, the blue-eyed kitten and sleeping snowy owl, made their way back through London to Paddington Station, where they stopped at a café while waiting for the train back to the Dursley's to arrive.

'Hagrid, what house were you in when you went to Hogwarts?' Charlotte asked when they had sat down. She had been wondering for quite a while. Hagrid looked at her, surprised.

'How d'you know about the Hogwarts houses?'

'A boy in Madam Malkin's told me about them.'

'Oh, well, I was a Gryffindor.' He informed her, smiling. 'The brave at heart.'

'What're you talking about?' Harry asked.

'Well, there's four school houses at Hogwarts that all kids get sorted into according to their traits,' Hagrid explained. 'There's Ravenclaw, intelligence, Gryffindor, bravery and chivalry, Slytherin, cunning, and Hufflepuff, hard work and fair play. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but - '

'I bet I'll be in Hufflepuff,' said Harry gloomily. Charlotte snorted, unable to hide her amusement.

'Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,' said Hagrid darkly. 'There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. You know who was one.'

'He was at Hogwarts?' Harry gasped.

'Years an' years ago,' said Hagrid. Harry was about to ask more questions when Charlotte interrupted.

'I'm sure what you said about there being "not a single witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin" is untrue. I find it _very_ hard to believe _every_ single bad wizard came from one house,' she said pointedly. 'Furthermore, pot calling the kettle black, you saying Slytherins are bad wizards is no different to others saying Hufflepuffs are a lot of duffers.'

Hagrid seemed impressed at her perception. 'Right you are, there, Charlie.'

Hagrid gave the twins their Hogwarts tickets, told them to 'owl him' if the Dursely's gave them trouble, and, much to Harry's astonishment, disappeared suddenly as the train to Little Whining pulled out of the station.


	4. Nine and Three Quaters

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other tv show/book etc. referenced in this text.**

 **A/N: Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I haven't had much time to write lately. Hope you enjoy the chapter! :)**

* * *

The twin's last month at the Dursley's was quite an unusual experience. Dudley wouldn't stay in the same room as them as he was too scared that they would give him a second tail. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't speak to the twins at all, and acted as if any chair they sat in was empty.

They mostly kept to their room, looking through their new school books and counting down the days to the first of September. One night, Charlotte was flicking through _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ and mumbling incoherently while flicking her wand around.

'Stop it, Charlie. Hagrid told us we weren't to do magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances.' Harry lectured.

'Whatever, H. Who's going to know? I'm just doing a bit of practise, as all.' She retorted, wearing her all-too-familiar devious smirk, much to Harry's displeasure. 'I found a levitating spell in here and I thought it'd be fun to try.'

Before he could protest any more, Charlotte clearly said, 'win-gard-ee-um lev-ee-oh-ser' and flicked her wand at a book on the floor. Nothing happened. Frowning, but clearly still determined, she looked back down at the book.

'Wingerdium – no – wingardeeum levi – levisar – levioser…' she muttered. 'Okay, _wingardium leviosar!_ ' She said, hopefully swishing her wand a second time. Much to her and Harry's surprise, the book rose a few centimetres from the ground, hovered for a moment, before landing back down with a thud.

Charlotte laughed and clapped her hands together in excitement. Although impressed, Harry looked at her sternly.

'Great. Don't do it again, please.'

'You're no fun,' Charlotte grumbled. She through the spell book at him and he narrowly dodged it.

At that moment, the blue-eyed kitten jumped up onto the bed and settled in Charlotte's lap.

'Any idea what you're naming the cat?' Harry asked.

'Sebastian.'

'What? _Why?_ ' Said Harry, staring at his sister disbelievingly.

'Because I want to.'

'Isn't it a girl?'

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him. 'What does that have to do with it?'

'You can't name your _girl_ cat Sebastian. That's a _boy's_ name.' Harry protested.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Charlotte replied shortly. 'If you rejected gender stereotyping and the incorrect beliefs instilled by society, you would come to realise there are no "girls" or "boys" names. I'm naming my cat Sebastian because I like the name Sebastian. End of story.'

Harry frowned at his sister's declaration, but saw no point in arguing. Charlotte had made it quite clear she would listen to no more on the subject. Besides, when Charlotte was convinced of something she didn't let anyone give her crap saying otherwise.

'Well, I've decided to call my owl Hedwig. It's a name I found in _A History of Magic_.'

Charlotte simply hummed in response.

On the last day of August, Harry announced they should probably speak to their aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross the next day.

'Have fun with that,' Charlotte said.

'What, you're going to make me do it?' Asked Harry sulkily. Charlotte shrugged her shoulders in indifference and Harry whimpered, 'Please, Charlie, can't you ask him?'

'Be brave, brother bear.'

So Harry went downstairs and announced the twins had to be at King's Cross to catch the train, and Uncle Vernon grunted in agreement, adding he was only agreeing because the family was already going to London so Dudley could have his tail removed at hospital.

'What does the ticket say, anyway?' Charlotte enquired after Harry had relayed this information.

'It just says the train leaves for Hogwarts at eleven o'clock from platform nine and three-quarters.'

'Platform what?' Charlotte hissed, snatching the ticket from Harry and reading it herself. 'Nine and three-quarters?! Rubbish! There is no platform nine and three-quarters!'

'You don't know that,' Harry countered. Charlotte gave him a look that said "this is mad", but he remained firm. 'It's magic, Charlie. Anything's possible.'

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke Charlotte early, filled with nerves and excitement. She was sour at him for waking her up at first, but eventually the two packed their things and waited for the Dursley's to rise, Charlotte not admitting she was just as excited as her brother. Eventually they set off and reached King's Cross at half-past ten and struggled with their heavy trunks, owl and cat, finally reaching the platforms. Once there, Charlotte spun around and frowned at Harry.

'I don't wish to say I told you so, but…' She said, the bitter note in her voice making Harry cringe. She was pointing up at the signs above them: there was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the other. There was no platform nine and three-quarters between the two. Harry felt his chest tighten.

'Well, it's all well and good that you were right Charlie, but what are we going to do now? We've ten minutes before the train leaves and we're stranded in the middle of a train station with two trunks we can barely carry, a pocket of wizard money, a white kitten and a large owl!' He spat, somewhat frantically.

'Sorry,' Charlotte muttered. It was an unconvincing apology. 'Hagrid must've forgotten to tell us something we had to do.'

Harry was inconsolable at that point, rambling on about how they should talk to one of the guards or try tapping the ticket box with their wands like Hagrid did with the bricks at Diagon Alley when Charlotte lifted her hand to silence him abruptly. He frowned at her.

'That woman,' Charlotte said, motioning to a plump woman, surrounded by four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each was pushing a trunk similar to the ones the twins had. 'She just said "muggles".'

With that, Harry quickly pushed the trolley with the twins' belongings on it over to the family. Charlotte followed suit, and soon they were standing close enough to hear the woman talking to a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand.

'All right, Percy, you go first.' She said, turning to the oldest of the boys. The twins watched closely as he marched towards the divide between platforms nine and ten, but just as he reached it a large crowd obscured their view, and by the time the group had gone past, the boy was gone. Charlotte scanned the crowds for a sign of him, but he had simply disappeared.

'What the…' Charlotte began, trailing off as another of the red haired boys walked briskly towards the barrier before disappearing in front of their eyes. Harry, wide-eyed in disbelief, tapped his sisters arm aimlessly as they watched yet another vanish behind the wall between the two platforms. Charlotte swatted her brother's hand away and made her way over to the family.

'Excuse me,' Charlotte said to the woman.

'Oh, hullo dear,' she said. 'First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too.' She pointed at the youngest of her sons – a tall, thin and gangling boy with freckles, big hands and feet and a long nose – before greeting Harry, who had just realised his sister's absence and set off in pursuit of her. 'Hello! Twins, are you?' Charlotte watched Harry nod in response. 'How wonderful!'

'The thing is,' Charlotte said, redirecting the woman's attention back to her, 'we don't know how to - '

'How to get to the platform?' She said kindly, and the twins nodded. She told them they simply had to walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and not to stop or be scared they'll crash into it, and maybe run if they're a bit nervous. 'Go on, go now before Ron,' she finished.

'Er - ' Harry began, looking over at Charlotte. She motioned to the barrier with her head. 'Okay…'

Charlotte stood back and watched as her brother ran straight at the platform. She saw the uncertainty in his face before he started to walk toward the barrier; he obviously thought he was going to crash, and she didn't blame him, as she did too. When he reached the wall, however, he did not crash – instead, he kept going, disappearing suddenly through the barrier.

Deciding standing about any longer would be pointless, and somewhat uncomfortable in her brother's absence, Charlotte ran straight at the ticket box between the platforms. She watched it grow closer, all the while thinking how ludicrous all this was. She reached the wall, yet kept running, finding herself on an entirely new platform, packed with people. Waiting next to the platform was a scarlet steam engine, a sign overhead reading _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock._ Charlotte looked behind her and saw a wroght-iron archway where the ticket-box had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it. She laughed, both in relief and disbelief, and turned back around to see Harry standing with the cart of trunks and animals, beaming at her. She walked over to where he stood, weaving through the chattering crowds and avoiding treading on the cats weaving here and there between people's legs.

'I told you we'd be fine, didn't I?' He teased.

'Shut up, dork," Charlotte responded, smiling. She looked over at the train, seeing many carriages already packed with students. 'We should probably go look for an empty seat if we wish to get to this loony bin of yours.'

Harry elbowed his sister playfully and pushed his trolley off down the platform. Charlotte followed suit, listening as an old woman sighed 'Oh, _Neville_ ', at a round-faced boy who'd lost his toad. The twins managed to push through the crowd and find an empty compartment near the end of the train. Charlotte carried Hedwig and Sebastian's cages inside while Harry attempted to shove the heavy trunks onto the train. Inside, Charlotte watched as the red-haired twins from the ticket-box approached and helped him with the luggage. Just as she went out to join them, Harry pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, and one of the twins pointed suddenly at the scar on his forehead.

'What's that?' He said.

'Blimey,' said the other twin. 'Are you - '

'He _is,'_ said the first twin. 'Aren't you?' He added to Harry.

'What?' Harry asked.

' _Harry Potter,_ ' chorused the twins.

'Oh, him,' said Harry. 'I mean, yes, I am.'

Charlotte watched the twins stare in Harry at awe, noticing how red he had suddenly turned. Just as she was deliberating whether she should go rescue him, a voice came floating through the train door, calling the twins, who left with one last look at Harry.

Once they had left, Harry moped over to the seat nearest to the window, attempting in vain to avoid Charlotte's eye.

'Guess I should consider myself lucky,' she exclaimed, falling onto the seat next to him. 'Being related to a celebrity and all.'

'Sod off, Charlie,' Harry grumbled, embarrassed. 'If you were there they'd have gawped at you too.'

Charlotte just laughed.


	5. The Hogwarts Express

**I do not own Harry Potter or any other text referenced in this story.**

 **A/N: I'm so happy to see all of your positive reviews! Sorry I don't update often, I'll try to submit chapters more frequently when I can. It's also just occurred to me that my chapters are quite long. Oh well. I'm really glad you guys like it, it's my first work and I had mixed expectations.**

 **Hope you like the chapter! :)**

* * *

'Quit eavesdropping, H.'

'They're talking about us,' Harry muttered in response, not bothering to turn away from the window.

'Well if you weren't listening in on their conversation you wouldn't know that,' Charlotte retorted flatly. 'Then you wouldn't need to worry about it.'

'They seemed like a nice family,' said Harry. 'If they talk about us, everyone will.'

Charlotte sighed and moved closer to the window, catching the tail end of the conversation between the red haired boys and their mother.

'I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that on their first day of school,' the mother said sternly.

'Ask us what?' Charlotte wondered aloud.

'If we remember what you-know-who looks like,' Harry replied in a grave tone. Seconds later, a whistle sounded and the boys clambered onto the train, bidding their mother and sister hasty goodbyes.

The train started to move. Soon it gathered speed and houses were flashing past the window. Harry felt a leap of excitement. He didn't know where he and his sister were going, but he knew it had to be better than what they were leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open. Charlotte and Harry looked up and saw the youngest redhead boy come in and motion at the empty seat opposite them.

'Is anyone sitting there?' He asked. 'Everywhere else is full.'

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down, looking out the window as if he was struggling not to stare.

'Hey, Ron,' the red-haired twins were back, standing in the doorway. 'We'll be down the middle of the train, Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there.'

'Right,' Ron mumbled in response.

'Harry, Charlotte,' said the other twin, 'we didn't introduce ourselves before. Fred and George Weasley. This so out brother Ron. See you later, then.'

'Bye,' Harry, Ron and Charlotte said as the door slid shut.

'Are you really the Potters?' Ron blurted out. Harry and Charlotte nodded.

'Oh, I thought it might've been one of Fred and George's jokes,' said Ron. He looked over at Harry. 'Do you really have - you know…'

He pointed at Harry's forehead. Harry pulled back his fringe to show the Lightning shaped scar. Ron stared.

'That's where you know who…' he began. 'Do you remember it?'

'Not really,' Harry said. 'Just a green light, then nothing.'

Charlotte sat and watched the exchange, rather uncomfortable. Ron sat and stared at the twins for a few moments, then, as if he just realised what he was doing, quickly turned to look back out the window again.

Charlotte studied him while he wasn't looking.

'Are all your family wizards?' She asked.

'Er - yes, I think so,' he responded. 'My mums got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we don't talk about him. I heard you live with muggles. What're they like?'

'Awful.' Charlotte replied flatly.

'Well, not all of them,' Harry added. 'Our aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. I wish we had three wizard brothers.'

'Five,' said Ron gloomily. 'I'm the sixth in my family to go to Hogwarts, and I've a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left. Bill was head boy, Charlie was quidditch captain, now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot but they still…'

Ron and Harry continued to chat about various things. Ron was quite embarrassed when he accidentally mentioned his family's lack if money. Charlotte thought that odd. She and Harry never had any money till one month ago. Charlotte watched out the window as the train pulled them out of London, speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. Her trance was broken when Ron gasped loudly.

'What?' Harry asked.

'You said You-Know-Who's name!' Ron said, sounding both shocked and impressed. 'I'd have thought you, of all people -'

'I'm not trying to be brave or anything, I just never knew I shouldn't,' Harry responded. 'See what I mean? I know nothing, I bet… I bet I'm the worst in the class.'

Charlotte turned her attention back to the passing lanes and fields. She had heard this all before.

* * *

Around half past twelve a smiling woman pulled the carriage door open, saying 'anything from the trolley, dears?' The twins hadn't eaten at breakfast, and Harry leapt straight out of his seat and went out into the corridor. Charlotte had no doubt he would return with as many sweets as he could carry.

'Don't forget about me, doofus,' she called out to him.

Charlotte watched Ron's ears turn pink as he muttered he'd brought lunch. Harry returned moments later, unsurprisingly, with his arms full of candy that he poured into an empty seat.

'Seriously, Harry?' Charlotte said, eyebrows raised.

'I wanted to get one of everything,' he retorted with petulance. 'We've never had wizard sweets before.'

'Whatever,' Charlotte dismissed, snatching a pumpkin pasty out of Harry's hand. 'Give me that.'

Harry glared at her. She ignored him and took a large bite out of the pasty.

During their exchange Ron had unwrapped four sandwiches and peeled one open, sadly muttering, 'she always forgets I don't like corned beef.'

After hearing this, Harry immediately told Ron to have some of the food from the trolley. Ron resisted, but Harry wouldn't have it. Charlotte watched this, smiling quietly. It was so like Harry, her regular sunflower of a brother, to buy a trolley of food with the only money he'd ever had, only to give it away to a boy he had just met. This was very well the first time Harry had had anything nice that was properly his, and his first instinct was to share it.

The boys sat and ate their way through the pile of pasties and cakes. Charlotte picked something off the shrinking mound.

'Chocolate frogs,' she read the package. 'They're not.. They're not real frogs, right?'

'No,' said Ron. 'But they have collectible cards inside them with famous witches and wizards on them. See who it is, I'm missing Agrippa and Ptolemy.'

Charlotte unwrapped the frog and looked at the card. It showed a man's face; he wore half moon glasses, had a long crooked nose and long silver hair and beard. Beneath the picture was the name _Albus Dumbledore_. He looked like a right old weirdo to her. 'Here, you have it,' she said, tossing the card to Harry.

'So this is Dumbledore!' He said. He turned it over and read the back aloud. 'Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten pin bowling.'

Harry turned the card back over. 'He's gone!' He exclaimed in astonishment. Charlotte leaned over and, sure as anything, Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

'Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day,' said Ron.

'What, people just move around as they please in wizard photos?' Charlotte asked. Ron nodded in response. 'Of course they do.'

The boys continued rifling through the Famous Witch and Wizard cards. Harry was clearly fascinated by them, moving about and waving to him from the card. Later, Charlotte opened a bag labelled "Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans."

'You want to be careful with those,' Ron warned her. 'When it says every flavour it means _every_ flavour. George swears he once got a bogey-flavoured one.'

Charlotte shrugged and hazarded a bite out of a brown bean. It was coffee. Harry turned away from the chocolate frogs and pulled a bean out.

'Tastes like...' he mumbled, nibbling the end, 'curry?'

They had a good time eating the beans. Charlotte got toast, grass, sprouts and peppermint flavoured ones. Outside the window, the neat fields had disappeared, woods, twisting rivers and dark green hills taking their place.

There was a knock on the door and a tearful looking, round-faced boy came in. 'Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?'

When they shook their heads, he wailed that it kept getting away from him. Harry tried to comfort him, but it did little, and he left.

'If I brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could,' said Ron. 'Mind you, I've got Scabbers, so I can't talk.' He motioned to a fat grey rat sleeping in his lap. 'He's Percy's old rat and he's useless. He might've died and you wouldn't know the difference,' he continued in disgust. '

Just as Harry was about to introduce Hedwig, the door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time a girl was with him.

'Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost his.' She said in a bossy voice. Charlotte eyed her in distain. She had lots of bushy brown hair and large front teeth, and was already dressed in her robes.

'We already told him we haven't seen it,' Ron responded, but the girl wasn't listening.

'How exciting is it to be going to a magic school? Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was such a surprise when I got my letter but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all of our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?'

She said all of this very fast. Harry and Ron exchanged stunned looks. Charlotte frowned, rolled her eyes and turned to the window.

'I'm Ron Weasley,' Ron muttered.

'Harry Potter,' said Harry. 'This is my sister Charlotte.'

'Really?' Hermione gasped. 'I know all about you - I've got a few books for extra background reading , you two are in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and-'

'Wow, really?' Charlotte interrupted. The other girl didn't appear to notice the sarcastic note in her voice, but Harry did. He shot her a warning look, which she ignored. 'We are?'

'Goodness, you didn't know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me,' Hermione continued. Charlotte sighed inwardly. She was hoping the girl would be offended by her rudeness and leave. 'Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You had better change, you know. I expect we'll be there soon.'

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her. Charlotte sighed again, this time in relief.

'My God.' She whispered.

'Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it,' said Ron. He and Harry continued talking about houses. Charlotte stared out the window once more, thinking to herself that this Gryffindor was sounding less and less appealing every time it was mentioned. Especially if it was full of girls like Hermione Granger.

* * *

Harry and Ron were in the middle of what Charlotte considered to be a rather mundane conversation about some wizard sport called 'quidditch' when the compartment door slid open yet again. Charlotte wheeled around, annoyed.

'For God's sake, what is it now?' She mumbled exasperatedly. It wasn't Neville the toadless boy or Hermione Granger as she'd expected. Three boys stood at the door and Charlotte recognised the middle one at once; it was the pale boy from the robe shop.

He looked over to her and studied her with a mix of interest and surprise for a moment. 'You.'

Charlotte frowned slightly, confused. 'Me?'

'You,' he repeated rather stupidly.

'Me.' Charlotte replied, still somewhat puzzled.

He considered her for a minute longer. Harry, thoroughly uncomfortable, cleared his throat loudly. The boy shifted his attention.

'Is it true?' He said. 'They're saying all down the train that the Potters are in this compartment.'

'Yes,' said Harry. 'It's true.'

'You're Charlotte Potter?' The boy asked, looking back at Charlotte. 'I had no idea.'

'Good. I'm not interested in becoming a celebrity.' Charlotte responded flatly, looking behind the boy at the others standing behind him. They both looked thick and extremely mean. 'Nice bodyguards.'

'Oh, these- they,' The boy said, 'I just met them on the train. Crabbe and Goyle. And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.'

Ron gave a slight cough, which may have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

'Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.'

'Is there something wrong with that?' Charlotte demanded venomously. She wasn't chummy with this Ron, but she wasn't enjoying the pale boy's sudden change of temperament vey much either.

'What?' He asked, taken aback.

'I said, is there something wrong with having red hair and freckles and not much money?' She said. 'I have freckles and not a lot of money.'

'What- no, no... It was just an observation, that's all...' He mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

'I should hope so.' Charlotte replied, her tone calmer this time.

'Yes well... I just wanted to come down, see if the rumours were true...' he said.

'Well, I'm glad you stopped by.' said Charlotte.

'Yes,' he continued, regaining his composure. 'Nice to meet you all, then.' He nodded to the boys curtly and inspected Charlotte one last time before turning on his heel, pushing past the boys Crabbe and Goyle and disappearing down the train.

Ron was staring at Charlotte, his mouth agape. Harry was nonplussed; Charlotte often behaved in such a manner when kids tried to give them slack at their old school, and was generally rude and confrontational to Dudley when he annoyed her, so this was nothing extraordinary to him.

'That - that was...' he began, clearly not knowing what to say. 'Have you met him before?'

'Yeah, in Diagon Alley. He wasn't like that when we first met, though. Seems to me like he's changed now he's got other people to impress,' she said matter-of-factly. Uninterested in continuing the conversation, she turned to what was fast becoming her favourite conversation-ender - the window. It was getting dark. She could see mountains and forests under a deep-purple sky. The train did not seem to be slowing down.

A voice echoed through the train: 'We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.'

The three took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. The boys were pale with nerves, hastily cramming the last sweets into their pockets. Charlotte was just glad to get off this stuffy old train, finally. She picked up Sebastian and the trio headed out into the crowded corridor.

The train finally slowed down and pulled to a stop. People pushed their way towards the door onto a tiny, dark platform. Charlotte followed closely behind her brother as they stepped outside into the cold night air.

* * *

 **Please review! I'll try to submit the next chapter in a few weeks.**


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